


Riding Lessons

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Learning to ride a chocobo was for ceremony and practicality of their stations. Gladio didn’t think it should be a game.





	Riding Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nami/gifts).



> This was my first attempt for the Noctis Exchange, but I felt it was too Gladio-centric when I finished it.

Most people learnt how to ride a Chocobo during a festival. When the most docile birds in the royal stables and ranches were trotted out and tethered along a central line for the children to enjoy. When the little circles cut into the manicured park grass or marked out by flimsy blankets of straw were in place for beginners and the easy race track circuits were set up for the more experienced riders; a scenic circuit the birds were already trained to follow with nary a bump or deviation in place. There were shows of false jousts and games put on by the trained staff of the ranches and stables; the races a quick pace set around the perimeters of the festival grounds themselves and only a challenge to the young blustery heroes who worked their day jobs in shops and as servers. 

When most people learnt how to ride, it was during the most watered down version of the idea. Amid fluttering feathers and birds who had never pecked at a human in its life. 

Most children never really learnt how to ride. The correct balance and seating and control of the powerful but mostly docile bird beneath them was a mystery outside of the little fairground races. Most people would panic as a bird flustered itself and jumped along in its pace to gain more ground in a race, trained for speed and appearance more than anything practical, but still driven by instinct to lead its flock. They shied away from sharp beaks and clever eyes, skittering out of reach well before the birds themselves could cause trouble. Holding leave greens out like they expected the birds to snatch their hands along with the treat.

The only real experience inhabitants of the Crown City ever had with the birds were playful little bouts and easy-paced races. 

But most people were also not expected to appear versatile in official parades or events, or have a flashy trick to trot out during summer festivals to woo the visiting diplomats from other countries. The day-to-day citizens were never expected to know how to show off the top breeds of bird, or to balance weight and shifts and weapons. To show off skill and control and handling that hinted at eons of nobility that had never quite been lost. 

Even if it was all for show. 

The first round of lessons with the chocobos had been a disaster. Out in the muck of the local stables, the weather had turned sour throughout the day and they had been ushered home just after getting to meet the birds they would be trained on. 

Noctis had been excited for the lessons. For his own bird from the extensive stables, and flocks of varying colours and sizes. For the romantic notion of knights and princes and kingdoms facing off in friendly tournaments. Just like the old fairy tales. Just like the stories painted through the Halls of History back in the towering Citadel.

Gladiolus had thought the whole show of it was ridiculous. Impractical. The Crownsguard had barely used the birds in their parades for years, and the Kingsglaive even less. But he had been told it was a necessary step, and if Noctis learnt, he couldn't very well be the Shield who jogged behind his royal charge.

Even his father had a steed of his own. Even the King had a bird trained to handle the appearance of royalty. 

When the real lessons came, it was Ignis who kept to the paths. Who studied the instructions carefully and barely managed to hide his own initial disdain for the creatures and their quick steps. He was forever tugging at the bridle and harness, urging his bird back towards where the prince was still listening the basics. Back to where Noctis stood, more interested in smoothing out the few errant feathers that had refused to settle than he was in listening to the instructors. 

When the prince did manage to get onto his bird, he let the creature lead the way, content to watch where the bird wanted to go— usually to food. Usually off to the fences that ran alongside the gardens and orchards, where there was an easy picking of snacks and treats. The staff that had been handling their lessons had been far to enamoured by the curious prince to reprimand him for his wandering nature. 

Gladio found that he had no such issue. 

Gladio scowled each time he tried to guide the prince back to task, back to where Ignis was waiting. Until ‘quit playing around’ became the most common phrase repeated through the stables. Until he had taken the bird’s lead before the prince even managed to settle into his saddle. 

“It's not a game,” he said one early morning lesson when his young prince was still struggling to follow the trails. When he was holding the thin reins like a tether to keep the prince from wandering. 

“Well, why not? We can still learn and have some fun, right?”

“Because it isn’t.” In a few short weeks, they would be expected to show off the skills honed in the few lessons they've had. There would be a simple parade, a short ride through the Citadel grounds to greet the King, to present Noctis in all the decorum of his traditional position. In a few short weeks the weight of the Citadel would be bearing down on them and their birds— cameras and Council, and the eyes of everyone who mattered. “This is important.”

The quiet of the rest of the lessons was almost deafening. 

And the next. 

“Is Noctis not enjoying the riding lessons?” Clarus asked over lunch spent near the stables. Having come from the Citadel to see just how they were managing. 

For a long moment, Gladio didn't know. The prince had improved. His posture and control of his bird getting better by the day; his ability to urge the birds on, to direct them, improving by leaps. There had been no more excursions to the fences and the orchards. No more wayward wandering off to sneak treats or explore the grounds away from their courses. “I think he likes them.”

The prince had spent lunch with the chicks running around. He had trailed after the staff, with Cor at his side. The Marshal biting back smiles as his royal nephew asked a steady stream of questions about the birds, about the stables and care. Gladio could see him, even as he sat with his own father, with Ignis trailing after the prince as always— just as quick with the answers as the helpful staff. 

After lunch, there were more lessons to prepare them for the planned show before the king. There were paths to learn, and tricks, positions, military precision to memorize and practice. To perfect. 

After lunch, Gladio saw Noctis prepare his bird for the next round of practice. The next military stiff line of commands and parades. 

He grinned at Noctis’ surprise as he helped the prince up to the saddle. It was easy to lift the younger boy, to make him grin in response. To settle him in the saddle emblazoned with the royal sigils of his father. 

“What’s next?” Noctis asked, reins held out in preparation for the habits that had already developed. To hand over control of the situation and event to his Shield. 

Noctis was not afraid of the birds. He wasn't afraid to explore and race and run as fast as the bird would take him. He didn't shy back or get spooked when the bird fluttered it's small wings and used powerful legs to leap ahead on whatever route or trail they were on. 

Gladio slipped the rein into place, closing Noctis’ hands around the strip of supple leather. “Want to race?”


End file.
